


60 minutes (because I have you)

by PurpleMoons (ForErusSake)



Category: K-pop, ONEUS (Band)
Genre: Crying, Dissociation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Kim Youngjo | Ravn-centric, Light Angst, Missing Persons, Ravn is a mess, Sadness, this one has lots of feelz, with a happy ending though :)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 11:15:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29313189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForErusSake/pseuds/PurpleMoons
Summary: Youngjo takes his role as ONEUS’ eldest seriously. He is punctual, professional. Which is why all the members, the manager and staff are in a frenzy right now. Because their eldest left the room without his phone 30 minutes ago, and in just 30 more the six of them are supposed to go on stage, on live TV, but Youngjo is nowhere to be found.orYoungjo worries his dongsaengs by going missing 60 minutes before a live performance and the whole situation makes Youngjo realize that in the midst of looking after all the others he has forgotten the most important part of being a group: looking after each other.
Relationships: Kim Geonhak | Leedo & Kim Youngjo | Ravn, Kim Youngjo | Ravn & Everyone, Kim Youngjo | Ravn & Lee Keonhee, Kim Youngjo | Ravn & Lee Seoho, Kim Youngjo | Ravn & Son Dongju | Xion, Kim Youngjo | Ravn & Yeo Hwanwoong, ONEUS Ensemble/Everyone
Comments: 12
Kudos: 54





	60 minutes (because I have you)

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first ever K-pop fanfic, yay!  
> Just for the record: this setting is entirely fictional, none of the things described in this fic have actually happened. This is very much a case of write-what-you-wanna-read from my side. I hope the boys aren't too OOC XD it's surprisingly hard to write about real people...  
> You can decide for yourself when and where this takes place.  
> Lastly, it's already in the tags but it can't hurt to say one more time: Ravn goes through a brief (like 4 lines) episode of dissociation in this. It's nothing too heavy considering the subject matter of this fic, but here's a warning for it anyway.

He is punctual, normally, professional. Youngjo takes his role as ONEUS’ eldest seriously. They may not have a leader, but every one of them takes on some of the tasks a leader would normally perform. It’s how they work. It’s good. For Youngjo this means taking care of the others when they need it, being a proper hyung. He helps with cleaning and cooking, assigns chores, makes sure everyone is happy and healthy. He is the one they talk to about the things they’re proud of, things they did well, and he is their shoulder to cry on when things haven’t been going so well. Youngjo takes his role as ONEUS’ eldest seriously. He is punctual, professional. Which is why all the members, the manager and staff are in a frenzy right now. Because their eldest left the room without his phone 30 minutes ago, and in just 30 more the six of them are supposed to go on stage, on live TV, but Youngjo is nowhere to be found.

Seoho is the one to ask the question first: “Where is Youngjo-hyung?”

They have just been informed they have 30 minutes left before showtime. Normally, with 30 minutes to go, they would all be standing around in their dressing room, anxiously ready to go on stage. Hwanwoong would take them through some last details of the performance, remind them of things they shouldn’t get wrong. Youngjo would give them some last words of encouragement. Their manager would give them all a pat on the back and tell them to give it their all.

None of that has happened this time, because as soon as Seoho asked the question, all hell broke loose. Their manager is currently standing by the door, talking to one of the producers in an increasingly frantic tone of voice. Security officers have been dispatched to quietly search the building for the missing idol. The producers are trying to keep this low-profile. Seoho can already imagine the headlines: “Idol goes missing at music show. Who is to blame?” Seoho doesn’t care who’s to blame, he just wants his hyung to be found. Youngjo is the one keeping them all together in a setting like this. They are all professionals and they’ve done this enough times already, but there is something comforting in the presence of their eldest, something in his kind words and soft touches that takes the edge off their nerves, something in the way he trusts and believes in them that makes them better than they ever thought they could be.

Right now though, with 20 minutes to go and still no sight of their oldest hyung, they are more than just nervous. Panic has become a palpable, touchable thing in the room. The members are huddled together, anxiously waiting for the message they all want to hear: Youngjo’s been found, he’s okay. Seoho tries not to let his own fear show too much. With his hyung missing, he is the oldest member in the room, and it is his job to take care of the younger ones. He can’t do that if he is an anxious mess. So he pushes his own feelings aside and focuses on the others. He focuses on the way Geonhak keeps moving his hands, bouncing his legs, unable to sit still; the way Keonhee keeps reaching out, touching Seoho’s knee, Dongju’s shoulder, Geonhak’s back, Hwanwoong’s hair; the way both Hwanwoong and Dongju have gone uncharacteristically quiet, as if they’re afraid moving or talking might stop their hyung from finding his way back to them.

It is this room, this tension that Youngjo walks into when he does return, with 15 minutes on the clock, shaking hands buried deep in the pockets of his coat, his makeup and hair a mess.

“Hyung?” Seoho breathes, and just like that the tension in the room deflates. The others jump to their feet, prepared to rush to Youngjo’s side, ask him where he’s been, a question they don’t have time for, a question Seoho can tell his hyung is not quite ready to answer. And so Seoho rushes forward instead, keeps the others from crowding their hyung with a few quick words and tugs on arms. He tries to make eye-contact with Youngjo, stepping closer, but not too close. He won’t ask the question, not out loud, but Seoho knows it’s written on his face anyway, can tell his hyung sees it there, even while he’s avoiding eye-contact.

“Not now.”

Seoho almost misses the words, barely more than a breath of air. The hand he’s raised to touch his hyung’s shoulder falling back to hang at his side. He can’t quite avert his eyes, his brow creased in worry as he takes in his hyung’s haphazard appearance, but the relief he feels at hearing the other’s voice is enough to loosen the tension in his shoulders.

Youngjo on the other hand hates how soft his voice sounds, how uneven. It makes no sense to want to sound stable when the evidence of his very instability is written in the tear tracks on his cheeks, but there is something in being able to hear what he can’t see that makes it unbearable. He hates to see the worry etched into every inch of Seoho’s face. He doesn’t want the others to worry about him. As the eldest it is his job to worry, not theirs. The fact that he made them worry, by walking out and not returning for 45 minutes, only makes it worse. His dongsaengs shouldn’t have to worry about him, he does enough worrying for all six of them.

He watches Seoho hesitate before stepping back. They don’t have time, they go on in 15 minutes, but in this moment, with the other members all looking at him, waiting for him to say something, do something, anything, it feels like eternity could pass and they would never know.

The spell is broken when their manager steps up to him, putting a hand on his shoulder, dragging him back into the here and now.

“I’m sorry.”

The apology sounds hollow even though Youngjo means it with whole his heart.

“I’m sorry.”

Their manager grabs his chin, touch gentler than it has any right to be, and tips Youngjo’s head back until he can’t do anything but look at the man. The manager sighs and shakes his head, inspecting Youngjo’s messy hair and ruined makeup.

“You’ve given us quite a scare, kid.”

With the man’s hand still cupping his face, Youngjo has to keep looking at him, watch as the man’s brow creases, mouth pressed into a thin line. In his eyes Youngjo doesn’t find the annoyance he expects, but worry.

It’s always worry. It makes Youngjo feel impossibly small. He wishes the worry wasn’t justified.

“Can you perform?”

The question is both expected and a surprise. It would be a hassle to pull him from the performance this late, it would disappoint the fans, but somehow Youngjo expected his manager to do it anyway. The man cares about them all too much for his own good.

Youngjo nods. He doesn’t want the others to worry, can’t make them worry about him any more than they already do. He knows that saying no will mean talking about this, whatever this is, while the others are on stage, unfocused and worrying about him. He can’t do that, can’t do that to them. So he nods. He will perform if it kills him.

Their manager turns him around, hand on his back, and walks him over to where the stylists are waiting anxiously. The man pushes him down in a chair, hands still gentle. No annoyance, all soft worry.

“Do whatever you can to fix this mess. You have 10 minutes.”

It’s hectic. Three stylists buzzing around him. Two of them working on taking off and re-applying his makeup, getting rid of the ugly tear-tracks on his cheeks, the third one redoing his hair at record-breaking speed. It takes them 8 minutes to hide all the evidence that he’s spent 40 minutes bawling his eyes out in the parking lot. Youngjo wouldn’t say this out loud, but it’s a good metaphor for the industry.

By the time he gets out of the chair, ready to go, the other members have already been corralled out of the room and towards the stage. It’s just their manager waiting for him, still wearing that soft worried expression. Youngjo can’t bear to look him in the eye. Can’t bear to look at him and have his own failure reflected back at him in that expression. He is the oldest of the group. He should be strong. He has to make it right.

Their manager puts a hand on his shoulder to lead him away. Youngjo lets himself be lead.

With 1 minute on the clock he makes his way over to where the others are waiting. They all look up at him with identical expressions of worry. Their pre-performance focus broken by his arrival. He has to make it right.

“Don’t hold back.”

His voice is barely more than a whisper. It doesn’t carry through the backstage buzz as well as he would’ve wanted. He idly wonders if his voice will carry even through the mic one of the stagehands is currently outfitting him with. He doesn’t have time to say anything else. He just has to trust they heard.

They go up the stairs to take their positions on stage. He feels a smaller hand brush against his own in passing. A fleeting touch. Hwanwoong looks up at him for barely a second as he rushes to his place, the younger’s lips forming silent words Youngjo almost misses in the rush of the moment. The rush of pre-performance adrenaline that always hits him when he sets foot on stage.

“Don’t hold back.”

He takes first position. The lights come on around them. The music starts. A silent answer dies on his lips, replaced by lyrics that say the same thing in different words.

_Never_.

He doesn’t hold back. He gives it all the energy he has, but he is sloppy. Not enough that the fans will worry, but enough for the other members to notice. He makes tiny, silly mistakes the audience won’t think anything of, but he will keep going over in his mind again and again for days to come. Until one of the other members will pull him out of it, will pull him out of the past and back into the present, will smile at him, make him coffee, make him talk. And he will talk and talk, he will pour all of the insecurities and frustrations he doesn’t allow the fans to see, out into the open. He will be smiled at, drink his coffee. He will no longer be haunted by his mistakes, but will instead be haunted by the knowledge that he put all of his problems onto the shoulders of one of his dongsaengs, one of the people he’s supposed to look after and protect, that he made them carry what he couldn’t carry himself, and it will make him feel worse than before. That’s just how it goes.

He is sloppy. He is tired. More than tired. His head is pounding and his legs are made of jelly and he thinks it is a wonder his knees don’t give out halfway through the performance. At least he doesn’t stumble on the lyrics like he thought he would. He raps his verse with a tongue that feels like lead, but he doesn’t miss a word. He smiles at the camera like he’s supposed to, hopes it doesn’t catch the redness of his eyes.

The second half is harder. On any other day he could do this choreo multiple times in a row without missing a beat. Today doing it once feels like a chore. He still does it. He pours everything he has into it. He pours what little energy he has into the remaining dance moves, pours his whole heart into the lyrics until he feels like he is drowning, like he’s bleeding every last drop of his life’s blood out onto the stage. It’s worth it for the cheers. He doesn’t need a beating heart to live. Just the stage.

And just like that it’s over. He freezes in his final position. The music ends. He closes his eyes, afraid that if he were to leave them open the camera’s might catch the wetness there.

The lights dim. He breathes. He floats.

The cheers of the audience are far away. Just static buzzing in his ears. His limbs are heavier than they’ve ever been before, like they’re not really his own. Like he is in that audience, looking at the person on stage, frozen when he should be moving.

Then a hand tugs on an arm. Weight is moved from one leg to the other. A body moves. A hand comes to rest on a shoulder. That gentle touch pulls him back down. Back into his body and it’s him that’s moving. His own legs carrying him to the edge of the stage. Seoho’s hand trailing a path from his shoulder to the small of his back. Grounding him. Supporting him.

They step down the stairs. Geonhak looks at the two of them over his shoulder, urges the others to keep moving. There’s always too many people backstage. Staff running around, other groups getting ready to perform. There is no room to hang around. So they move, even if Dongju stops multiple times to check if his hyungs are still following along. Youngjo can see him counting heads, eyes flitting from one member to the next. There’s only 5 of them to count. Dongju must be up to 50 by the time they reach their dressing room. It’s the only thing Youngjo notices about the walk back. The rest is a blur of grey he won’t remember.

Youngjo only notices they’ve arrived when Seoho quietly urges him to sit down on the couch. He looks up to see the other members standing around them, looking a little lost. Keonhee still jittery with the adrenaline of the stage. The others looking tired.

The worry is back. He can see it in the way Hwanwoong is pulling on the sleeves of his shirt, the way Geonhak and Dongju keep glancing at each other and at him, at each other and at him, at each other and at him, the way Keonhee is looking everywhere but at him. He can feel it in the way Seoho still has a hand on his back, even though they’re back in their dressing room and Youngjo is seated on the couch and in no way likely to wander off again.

“You okay?”

The question surprises him even though it shouldn’t.

“Yeah,” he replies, voice as soft and shaky as before.

“Hyung…”

“I don’t know.”

Seoho takes that answer for the truth it is. None of them know. They’ve spent so much of their lives running after this dream, getting better, growing in all the ways they needed to succeed. Now that that dream theirs they’re only just starting to figure out the ways in which they have forgotten to grow. It’s hard to grow up and form your own identity in an industry that’s all about molding your identity to fit what’s in vogue. It’s hard to grow up and be ‘okay’, and recognize what ‘okay’ means in an industry where ‘okay’ doesn’t really matter and there is only ever room for perfection.

It’s easy on stage. On stage he is Ravn. He knows who Ravn is. They’ve planned that out meticulously before debut. Ravn was born along with his name. He lives on stage and on camera. He doesn’t have to be anywhere else. He knows who Ravn is. Youngjo on the other hand… Youngjo lives backstage and at the dorm and in the practice room. Youngjo has to be everywhere else, but _he_ didn’t get nearly as much thought put into finding who he is.

“Hyung?”

Hwanwoong’s voice pulls him from his thoughts. Youngjo will find another moment to reflect on how Hwanwoong’s voice is the only one that can really pull him out of his head. Today he smiles and listens.

“Manager-nim wants to speak with you.”

His smile falls from his face. He nods.

The man steps into his field of vision, urging the other members to start getting changed out of their stage-clothes. They all hesitate, not willing to leave their hyung’s side right now. Seoho is frozen next to him, hand still on Youngjo’s back.

“Go, it’s okay.”

Seoho’s hand moves, lingers and then leaves. The younger slowly stands up and walks away, taking the others with him, and then it’s just him and their manager.

The man sits down next to him. A comforting hand comes to rest on Youngjo’s knee.

“So, you wanna tell me what happened?”

Youngjo shrugs. He doesn’t really. There is not much to tell. He was tired, got overwhelmed, needed to get some air, so he did. He slipped outside when no one from security was looking, onto the parking lot, walked around the building until he found a spot in between a van and a wall where no one would find him, and he got his air. Then some more, and some more, and before he knew it he was sitting on the ground, sobbing into his hands, ruining all the stylists’ hard work, trying not to choke on the force of his own sorrow, and when he finally stopped crying he went back inside, thinking it had only been a couple minutes, like he intended, when he had in fact been away for 45 minutes. Time is a funny thing.

“You know you can talk to me about anything right?”

Youngjo does know that. But in the same way that he doesn’t want to burden the younger members with his problems, he also doesn’t want to look weak in front of their manager. The man does so much for the six of them already. Youngjo knows he doesn’t have children. Sometimes he thinks they fill that void for him. Youngjo doesn’t want to disappoint him. Worrying him is bad enough already.

“It is my job to look after you all, but I can only do that if you let me, Youngjo-yah.”

“I’m sorry.”

Youngjo feels impossibly small under the man’s scrutiny.

“Don’t run off like that again. You were still ready on time today, so I think this will blow over fairly quickly, but I can’t protect you or the group from the repercussions if this happens again. Is that clear?”

Youngjo nods.

“Good. Next time when you feel like this, please come talk to me instead, or any of the other members. You know they would do anything to help you, right?”

Youngjo keeps nodding.

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to keep saying that. It’s okay.”

The man opens his arms, inviting him in for a hug. Youngjo instinctively leans in. He feels arms wrap around him, his head being tucked under the man’s chin. For the first time since he woke up this morning Youngjo feels calm. Safe.

As the oldest of the group, it is Youngjo’s job to look after the others. It is easy to do that, to get lost in the rhythm of caring for and forget what it means to be cared for. To look after, and forget how much he needs to be looked after at times. He might be the oldest, but in many ways he is still so very young. So very fragile. He doesn’t want to worry the others, doesn’t want to burden them with his problems, because he is the oldest and he should be strong. It is easy to forget that that is not true, that that is something he’s been trained to think, that sometimes it’s okay not to be okay, even for him, that it doesn’t make him weak. It just makes him human. Sometimes he thinks the industry could use a dash more of humanity.

Youngjo finds humanity in their manager, who cares for him so much, in the other members, who love him so much, in himself, who is conflicted about caring, about love, about who he is and what it means to be okay, but tries so hard every single day.

It doesn’t matter if sometimes a day isn’t better than the last. He still tries.

He will be okay. He will find out what okay means, and he will be okay. Not perfect. Just okay. That will have to be enough.

“Is he asleep?”

Hwanwoong’s voice.

He opens his eyes. The other members are standing around them in a circle. There is still an edge of worry in their eyes, in their hesitant body language, but it doesn’t bother Youngjo as much as it did earlier. Worry just means they care, he tells himself.

He sits up, pulls away from their manager’s embrace, who stands up and ruffles his hair.

“We will talk more later.”

Youngjo knew the man wouldn’t let this go so easily. Somehow the idea of talking about this, whatever this is, doesn’t scare him as much anymore either.

“We leave in half an hour. Make sure you’re ready.”

The man walks away with a fond smile on his face.

The other members jump at him immediately. Hwanwoong worms his way into Youngjo’s arms, hugging him tight. Seoho moves a chair to sit in front of him. Geonhak sits down on the couch next to him. Dongju takes the armrest on his other side. Keonhee just flops down on the floor, pushing at Hwanwoong’s legs until he can hug Youngjo’s.

Youngjo can’t help but laugh. For the first time today, it doesn’t sound forced.

ONEUS doesn’t have a leader for a reason. They don’t need one. They have each other.

They all do their part. They take care of each other. They are a family.

Youngjo may be the oldest. He may do most of the looking after, but that doesn’t mean his dongsaengs don’t also look after him.

It’s in the way Seoho shows up in his studio in the dead of night, when he’s stayed out too long yet again, to drag him home, to make sure he sleeps. It’s in the way Geonhak makes coffee for him in the morning when he’s in too much of a rush to do it himself. In the way Keonhee always leaves snacks on his desk with little loving notes attached. The way Hwanwoong always knows when he needs a hug and somehow shows up right on time every single time. The way Dongju sneaks into his bedroom in the middle of the night on the days Youngjo has to get up earlier than the others, to cover him with an extra blanket and leave him a stuffed animal, so he won’t wake up cold or lonely.

Youngjo won’t walk out on them 60 minutes before a live performance again. Not because he doesn’t want to worry them, but because he trusts them. Because he loves them. More than anything else in the world. More than the stage.

He doesn’t need a beating heart to live. He doesn’t even really need the stage. He just needs them there with him. It doesn’t matter where.

“You okay, hyung?”

Seoho asks again. Voice softer than the last time.

“I don’t know.”

“But you will be.”

Hwanwoong says. Not a question. A promise.

Slowly, Youngjo nods.

“Yeah, I will be.”

“Because you have us.”

Youngjo smiles.

“Because I have you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you liked it, please leave a comment, even just a few words. Comments make my day :)


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